Matt "Guitar" Murphy is still one bad mother

I wasn't quite sure what to expect when I trekked up to The Back Room last night to see Matt "Guitar" Murphy. The Mississippi-born guitarist, who made his name alongside blues elite such as Memphis Slim and Sonny Boy Williamson II and gained mainstream fame with The Blues Brothers movies, is either 78 or 80 years old (depending on what source you cite) and had suffered a stroke a few years back that severely affected his right side. As it turned out, there was no need for concern, as Murphy delivered the goods and then some.

But that wasn't evident from the get-go. First off, Murphy and his wife, who were driving up from Kendall, were having trouble finding the venue, which is on a long, dark stretch of Dixie Highway in Boca. Although he didn't arrive till 11 for a 9:30 show, the wait was more than tolerable thanks to the extremely entertaining and talented Darrell Raines and his excellent band, including the dynamic harp blowing of Pix Ensign, the rollicking keyboards of Jerry Mascaro and the terrific rhythm team of bassist George Caldwell and drummer Dr. Bob Sellani. A somewhat limited vocalist who nonetheless sells each song with plenty of feeling, Raines has great charisma and a fiery but not flamboyant guitar style that shows his deep respect for and knowledge of the idiom. His library of licks recalled everyone from Freddie King to Elmore James to Jimi Hendrix (but not in that derivative fashion that makes so many Hendrix-inspired guitarists so damn tiresome), and he reminded me of similarly powerful but restrained guitarslingers such as Lurrie Bell.

When Murphy arrived and began making his way to the stage, the image was shocking. If your enduring image of him is the vital, musclebound dude from The Blues Brothers, you couldn't help but be taken aback by his deliberate gait and the loose skin that hangs from once-taut biceps. Still, once he gingerly stepped on stage, sat down and strapped on his blond Telecaster (the same one, Jim Nestor tells me, that graces the cover of Murphy's Down South album), a familiar smile creased his broad face and he was once again Matt "Guitar" Murphy.

The band launched into "Matt's Guitar Boogie," Murphy's signature tune, and his jazzy chordings and sweet intonation, which calls up Memphis like no other sound, were in fine form. Even without the use of the digits on his right hand — he used just his right thumb, and believe me, the fingers on his left hand were as speedy and precise as ever — Murphy masterfully evokes the city where he found fame early on; his sound will be instantly recognizable to anyone who spent a great deal of time with The Blues Brothers' Briefcase Full of Blues album, as I did as a kid.

Murphy's and Raines' contrasting styles worked beautifully in tandem, as the pair traded leads and Murphy also displayed expert chops as a rhythm player. Even if you swore you'd never sit through another version of "Sweet Home Chicago" again, the version these guys cooked up was a real treat, full of improvisational back-and-forth as the two guitarists laid into the groove and jammed on a lengthy instrumental intro.

For the second set, Nouveaux Honkies guitarist Tim O'Donnell joined the proceedings, and like Raines, showed the utmost deference to Murphy as he was obviously thrilled to be sharing the stage with him. Dressed in a sharp suit and tie, O'Donnell played slide and did some fleet-fingered soloing on his hollow-body jazz box, as well as singing a couple of numbers alongside Raines and Murphy, who obviously got a kick out of him and shared more than a couple of laughs that seemed to suggest, "How does this white boy know all this shit?" Best of all was when O'Donnell inquired if Murphy remembered "Mother Earth," the great existential blues by Memphis Slim. "Oh, yeah," Murphy replied, as they launched into the doomy, familiar riff, with O'Donnell powerfully vocalizing and Murphy time-tripping back to another era as they concluded the set on a high note before Murphy hit the highway back to South Miami.

Certainly, Murphy is no museum piece. This show was just flat-out fun, and it seemed like everyone on stage was just delighted to be there. That goes for everyone off-stage, as well.